


there there.

by lupulangia



Series: tacks for snacks [12]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:58:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupulangia/pseuds/lupulangia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a special person to be a hero- especially when they've been a villian all their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there there.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celeloriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeloriel/gifts), [lalaietha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/gifts), [Byohazrd13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byohazrd13/gifts), [pt246](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt246/gifts), [frubancuban](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frubancuban/gifts).



> The power of the mind is uncanny.

I guess I probably should have prefaced some of this story with a little about me and my associations. Of course had I started out with that, little of what I said would have held valor; and little of what i did would have been viewed as anything other than wicked. My name is Claire Selton, or my birth name was anyway. I wanted to believe that I was a hero, you see, for most of my life. I was only a child when I became an exhile; I was isolated from the rest of the children and taken by my father to a special "school" (really a freak prison) somewhere far away from society so that i might not harm anyone with my accidentally powerful mind. See, I was only five years old when I killed my mother. I didn't MEAN to, but intention never matters when you"ve KILLED someone, especially when you do it over and again. I would get angry, and my angry wasn't like anyone else's angry; my angry seemed to catch things on fire. I was only an infant when the powers surmised, and my father tried to teach me to keep them under control. My father however didn't have much understanding for human emotion, and he didn't take the time to try to understand my reasons either.. He more or less just enforced strict rules and boundaries on me at a very young age, which incited emotion, which thereby intensified my emotions, causing the fires to come more and more frequently rather than the desired effect of less often. So one day when he told mom to punish me for burning the television set after breakfast, I accidentally caught her hair on fire; and when she began to scream I panicked, and the panick caused me to burn the hallway rug, the telephone, and then the approaching firetruck burst into flames as well. Of course nobody ever stopped to consider I might have been traumatized by the incident; no , they just found me a nice school far away to send me off to,a school for 'special' chilldren who nobody wanted the trouble of dealing with.  
There they taught me several things, but more important is what they did not teach me. Nobody taught me to care about the reasons I was being punished. Nobody taught me to consider why I had been cursed with the gift of fire; or gifted with the curse of fire. They taught me to conrol when I burned things, control what I burned, to read and to write and to cry only when attending funeral services or something similar. They taught me love was for the weak, always obey my father, and never question when i am instructed to do things by superiors. they failed to specify who these 'superiors' might be.


End file.
